The Curse of Erised
by ChristinWeast
Summary: When Voldemort finally attains his goal of being all powerful, can the wizards and witches be trusted to give into the ulitmate sacrifice? Or will Voldemort rule as a Dark Lord over muggle and wizard alike? It's possible, but for the curse....
1. Remorse

(Sarra: Hello, this is not the author. Well, I'm a co-author.  
  
I'm Christin's friend, Sarra. Yes, I have my own fanfic.net account, but the following chapter is the first chapter to a fic we're writing together.  
  
It started out Christin told me she had a dream. It was a HP dream. So she explained to me the plot, and now you're seeing it on paper... or the screen... Of course, I've put in my own flairs here and there. But we're writing this fic together.  
  
I really hope you enjoy it. Christin is also restricted from the computer for a while, which is why you might not see a chapter from her in the weeks to come. DON'T FORGET HER THOUGH! Ok? Great. I hope you like this.)  
  
*Chapter 1*  
  
*Remorse*  
  
(Summer, after Harry's fifth year)  
  
The inky sky drooped low over Privet Drive. It slid quietly into the houses, filling them with undesired darkness. Not all of it was unwanted, Harry Potter drew it around him as a cloak, prtecting him from a chill winter wind. He stared ahead at the blank wall, almost waiting for it to crumble under his gaze. Memories rolled over his vision like a neverending film, no matter how he tried, they would not shut off.  
  
Lord Voldemort's chill laugh as Cedric's sorpse lay with an astonished expression chisled eternally on his face...  
  
Quirrell meticulously unwrapping his customary turban to reveal the mangled face of malice...  
  
The blurring image of young Riddle as he coldly cackled over the petite, red-headed figure laying postrate on the ground...  
  
Hermione falling into a faint as a freezing hand gripped Harry's gut. No mater what he did the Dementors edged ever closer...  
  
Sirius's look of shock as he tipped back into the ragged black curtain and didn't return...  
  
Harry screamed in the dark as terror and despair overwhelmed him. Harry cursed silently as Uncle Vernon snorted loudly, interrupting his low roar of snores. During the interlude of silence a soft tap echhoed through the room. Harry sighed as he saw an owl at the window, he opened the window. He mechanically threw the impending letter to his mound of unread mail. About twice a day Hermione and Ron wrote Harry and about twice a day Harry tossed their letters aside. He wasn't even reading the Daily Prophet. Harry flopped tiredly back onto his bed, willing beter memories to come to his mind.  
  
But none came.  
  
They seemed to be hiding in the dreary crevices of his subconcious. Harry didn't want to think, to breathe, to be. He wanted the pain and greif to end, but at the thought of ending...  
  
But why not? He could see Sirius again, he could apologize to Cedric, he could finally meet his...parents. What did he have to lose? Only becoming a murderer...  
  
Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes glinted like cold steel as he looked directly, as it seemed to Harry, into his thoughts.  
  
"What are you thinking?"  
  
HArry glared at the old man, not even blanching at the sudden sight of him. "Why are you here?" Harry's gaze harden, "You weren't here for me before."  
  
"Harry James Potter." Dumbledore spoke slowly, each word rang with righteous anger. "Killing yourself would only seal the fate of all else in this world."  
  
Harry looked up defiantly as if to speak, but Dumbledore cut him off.  
  
"You SHOULD care."  
  
Harry started with a jolt, How did he know what Harry was thinking?  
  
Dumbledore continued, "You should care. Because if you ended your life tonight, you would burn with regret for eternity. Two words would haunt your mind...'What if?'." Dumbledore folded his hands, furrowing his brow. "What if I had lived long wnough to firmly put an end to Voldemort? What if I could have lived in peace afterwards? What would my life have been like?" Dumbledore continued with the questions until Harry's mind was riddled and dazed.  
  
Realization sturck Harry's heart like a heavy mallet. He looked up apologetically, but Dubmledore cut him off once again. "No need to apologize. You are just like your father: Rash, but in time you see reason."  
  
The thought gave Harry comfort.   
  
"It seems the owls are ineffective to you," Dumbledore smiled warmly and pulled a letter from a fold in his robes. It was Harry's Hogwarts letter.  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly and accepted the letter.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore spoke again, his voice solenm. "I know you grieve, but there is a time for grieving. It has passed. The time for preparation is upon us. Take up your letters, ALL of them... And live how Sirius would have wished."  
  
Harry nodded and a golden feeling of resolve flooded his being, and Dumbledore left as unexpectedly as he had come. Harry sighed and flopped on his bed, sweet sleep overtaking him for the first time in weeks.  
  
(Sarra: I hoped you liked it! See that little button down there? It says "Submit Review" PUSH IT! ^^ Christin loves you all for reviewing!) 


	2. Setting the Stage and the Losing of Sani...

Sarra: Well, after a loooong time we're sitting down to write again.  
  
Christin: It is truly a miracle.  
  
Sarra: Haha. Quite right. But now we're going to skip ahead quite some years, Harry's an adult now... If you call almost 18 an adult...  
  
Christin: Yeah, it's the end of 7th year, haha!  
  
Sarra: Why'd you laugh?  
  
Christin: Must I have a reason?  
  
Sarra: *shrugs* I guess not. Ah well, can we begin now?  
  
Christin: Right... Now our feature presentation!!!  
  
-=-  
  
*Chapter 2*  
  
*Setting the Stage and the Losing of Sanity*  
  
Day after day Harry was immensely happy about the uplifting talk Dumbledore had given him on that summer's evening. It had saved his life and helped him to preserve his hope through the losses with the attacks of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Of course, Dumbledore's words of wisdom were not his only consolation in the times of despair, he'd found solace in the heart of the youngest Weasley. Ginny and Harry had steadily grown closer through the retaliations on the Dark Lord with the D.A. Without even realizing it Harry had placed Ginny first on his priority list, most of what he did lately was to make her smile, since he loved to see her deep brown eyes light up with mirth. Ginny had quite grown out of her phase of "little girl crush". She no longer saw Harry as "The Boy Who Lived"... but as the man who made her happy. So, without knowing it Harry and Ginny fell in love. With the happiness in the tightly knit group of wizards opposed to Voldemort, they were nearly apathetic to the fact the war was still terrorizing the muggle and wizard worlds alike...  
  
(Sarra: All you angst-lovers, hold on. It'll come... then never leave. So hang out a bit.)  
  
--=-=--  
  
The onyx sky shone dimly over the small death mound. Non-descript and not holding much attention for many men, it only held one man's hopes. The Scottish burial mound held the hope of the man who stood over it. His red eyes glinted with near hysteria as the wind blew his cloak about his ankles. The disgruntled barley for miles around the man sighed and moaned in the silky night wind. The pale corpse of a neighborhood child lay prostrate next to the man's feet. He reached out a skeletal hand and grabbed the slit neck of the infant, squeezing enough so the still fresh blood oozed over his white fingers. He brought the hand stained with the innocent's blood to his face, examining his work. A satisfied grin slid across his twisted face.  
  
Lord Voldemort bent over the mound, splaying his bloodied hand there, letting the child's blood soak into the dry ground and golden wheat. There was a deep groan and to the left of his hand an entry melted open in the dead earth. Voldemort smiled again, everything was turning a new direction from now until the moment he would step from that yawning gap... new.... And immortal.  
  
-=-=-  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Harry!?"  
  
"No, stupid. It's me, Christin. You're too much into your writing Sarra."  
  
"Oh," Sarra groaned, "Sorry. What now? I'm about to throw up after that segment..."  
  
"Uhm... How's about we leave it there? To taunt them?" Christin smiled sardonically.  
  
Sarra nodded and looked at the confused reader, "See you next time."  
  
Christin fell out of her seat laughing, and Sarra nearly busted a gut.  
  
Then both girls jumped up and yelled at the retreating reader, "WAIT!"  
  
The reader turned back, afraid that they might bite them...  
  
"Please review?" both girls said in unison, small golden halos appearing over their heads.  
  
-=-=- 


End file.
